PARENTING
Magic Dragon Is Real
A true story about love, a lie, consequence, and redemption
Magic Dragon Begins
When our son Connor was four, he had a terrible fear of the dark, and Magic Dragon was our solution. He turned up mysteriously one day, along with a poem explaining that he had come to live with Connor to be his friend and protect him at night.
I don’t believe in lying to kids, even in a good cause (don’t get me started on Santa Fraud) but this seemed harmless enough, and if it could help him to sleep through the night alone it would be worth it.
Connor was over the moon, even though within a couple of hours he was pointing out that Magic Dragon didn’t speak or move or breathe, so couldn’t be really alive.
But much like his dad, Connor WANTS to believe. A few days later, he informed me, flushed with excitement, that Magic Dragon had moved all by himself towards our cat Wolfie when nobody was touching him. He even demonstrated the motion, a sort of dipping and lunging with his head.
Magic Dragon immediately usurped Annie the dog’s place as the plush toy of choice, accompanying Connor not just to bed but all around the house.
A few weeks later, David was visiting from next door, and Connor brought Magic Dragon out, explaining how he had come from a cave in dragon country and was able to move by himself. Even at four and a half, David wasn’t having it and observed that it looked like a regular stuffie, not demonstrating even the most basic signs of life.
“No,” said Connor, shaking his head with great firmness, “he’s magic. You’ll see.” And evidently David did, because before he left, he’d become a convert, even claiming to have seen Magic Dragon jump off the mantel.
The Point of No Return
The lie came back on us, as lies do. Connor had been bragging at school about Magic Dragon, and some of the older kids (five years old, to put it into perspective) were skeptical. Connor came home with his little fists balled in rage, insisting that he was going to bring Magic Dragon to school and show them. We tried to talk him out of it, but he would not be dissuaded or diverted. Once they saw Magic Dragon, he thought, they’d have to believe.
Well, of course they didn’t, telling him with the cruel honesty of the innocent that it was just a stuffie. Connor was very sad that night, saying that Magic Dragon wasn’t magic anymore.
As a parent, it breaks your heart to see your child hurting, especially when it’s because of a lie you’ve told him. And how do you fix it without compounding the untruth, magnifying the parental betrayal? I wanted to say something true.
“Connor,” I said. “People who don’t believe in magic, well, they can’t see it. And that’s ok. But people who believe, like Mommy and me, we see the magic and we know that it’s real.”
He looked doubtful but nodded. “I believe in the magic, too, daddy.”
The Magic Returns
Some weeks later we took Connor and Magic Dragon for a couple of days at a resort north of the city that’s shabby but in our price range, and which had swimming pools and other stuff for kids. The first morning we were there, we went out for breakfast, leaving Magic Dragon to guard the room. When we got back, he was tucked into bed, and there was a note on the table: “Thanks for letting me sleep in. I love you!”
Connor’s mom and I assumed that that the housekeeper had done it. We asked the front desk to pass along our thanks and left an extra-large tip.
And that must be what happened, even though no one ever confirmed it, and the woman at the front desk seemed perplexed by the story.
But of course, that’s what happened. Because toys aren’t magic, right?
